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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020914">Suidaemon Memoirs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoSkyDuck/pseuds/NachoSkyDuck'>NachoSkyDuck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:54:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoSkyDuck/pseuds/NachoSkyDuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story of long thoughts. Long in time held within, deep in times mulled over. An experiment of perspective and, like one's mind, expansion may occur when the time is right. The side-effect of hearing the following story in Morgan Freeman's voice is completely unintended, but highly encouraged.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Suidaemon Memoirs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyday has been the same, since he rescued me.</p>
<p>	Every morning, he awakens in pain after a night of attempted emotional eradication. You cannot see it on his face, but I always see it in his eyes. How tired they are from his work and how empty they are behind the vibrant iris. It is the first thing I see every morning. I am always eye-to-eye with him. His pillow is comfortable and shall always be my favourite place to be, so long as he is there.</p>
<p>He stirs in his sleep, you know. Forever restless as the nightmares plague him. Muttering and whimpering. On occasion, there are tears. Just a few. And should I catch sight of them, I wipe them away. He is never upset when I wake him. He seems thankful when he holds me close and pets along my pate. I enjoy it and keep close to him.</p>
<p>He feeds me first, before anything else. The same meal as every other morning. Some odd half-solid slurry, the taste of which I can only describe as 'miscellaneous'. But it is all he can afford. I eat as he bathes and then I bathe myself as he readies for the day.</p>
<p>On some days, he and I spend many hours together. We walk and peruse our usual haunts. I enjoy these days.</p>
<p>On other days, he must work to afford us our meagre lifestyle. Only afforded to us by the generosity of the hotel.</p>
<p>Even when he is gone, I am not alone. There is work to be done. People coming in and out.</p>
<p>The smiling one and the angry one. They talk to me and ask me how he is, yet they seem not to understand when I tell them. Of course, it is rather existential. Not many would be able to grasp the concepts of pain and unwillingness to face the pain. Self-fulfilling prophecies and self-destructive cycles of repressive and regressive antagonistic depression.</p>
<p>They do not experience it as I, a patron of his life's theatre.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>	The one who spends the most time with me, aside from my saviour, is the lonely one. Even among the others, I can sense it. If the one person you want is not there, then you are the loneliest person in that room. Perhaps it is because the lonely one knows where my saviour is and what he is doing. Long ago, I was as concerned about him… But it is in my strength that he finds comfort.</p>
<p>I catch his attention when he returns with bruises. My actions and words seep in like a soothing tincture and he holds me. He cries and, though he tries to hide it from me, I can feel the tears drop onto me. They burn like fire.</p>
<p>And I know that, despite what I do, he needs something more than I.</p>
<p>I can afford him affection.</p>
<p>Kindness.</p>
<p>Comfort.</p>
<p>But he wants something more than I can provide. Do I love him? Yes. I appreciate all he does for me. There is no way I can ever live without him. He saved me from emptiness and ruin. The slow starvation of the soul. Yet, I can never be the emotional well that he needs. I am but one being of limited means and age has dulled my ability to feel. Now I spend my time observing… thinking… and I see one who could replace me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lonely one could do this. For I know that a bond can grow there. It is fertile ground. They both feel for one another. He acts as though it is a joke and the lonely one denies it. But as I spend time with lonely, the secrets are confided. I keep the secrets safe within my boundless mind. They both care deeply, but neither will admit it first.</p>
<p>My saviour is afraid of what is within him.</p>
<p>The lonely one is unconvinced in his own capability.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>	Today I must change something. It has to be revealed. All of the pain must cease for them both. And I can end it with a few simple words.</p>
<p>	"He loves you."</p>
<p>But my saviour doesn't listen. He acknowledges that I have spoken, but does not address what I have said. He only reaches for his powders and goes back into his mindless stupor of colours.</p>
<p>	"You both love each other. Tell him how you feel."</p>
<p>The lonely one tells me to be quiet. No acknowledgement again. He just drinks and pushes it further down. For hours, I try to tell him. To no avail.</p>
<p>Then my saviour comes to take me home again.</p>
<p>	"Were you a good boy?" My saviour asks.</p>
<p>	"He wouldn't shut the fuck up." The lonely one complains.</p>
<p>	"Aw, that's just his way a' sayin' thanks~" My saviour picks me up and I try to tell him.</p>
<p>	"Tell him how you feel. End the charade and embrace one another."</p>
<p>	"Aw, oink-oink ta' you too, Nuggets~"</p>
<p>One day I will speak. And they will know. Maybe then they will be happy.</p>
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